Connected
by Chirugal
Summary: Abby has always insisted she and Gibbs have a psychic connection, but when Mikel Mawher escapes from prison and abducts her, leaving no trail, will that connection be enough to save her? Supernatural Gabby casefic, if such a genre exists! Now complete...
1. Abducted

**Title**: Connected  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Spoilers**: Bloodbath mainly.  
**Summary**: Abby has always insisted she and Gibbs have a psychic connection, but when Mikel Mawher escapes from prison and abducts her, leaving no trail, will that connection be enough to save her?

**Author's Note**: I have no idea where this one came from, but I felt like writing something surreal. Hope it's not too random for people!

* * *

Gibbs' cell rings, the invasive trill slicing through the silence of the darkened room. He struggles up from sleep, answering the call before he's even processed what's woken him. "Gibbs."

His only answer is the dial tone, and he sighs, slamming the phone back down on the nightstand and closing his eyes.

He's just about to slide back into slumber when the cell rings again. Growling with exasperation, he grabs it and smashes his thumb down on the button to answer. "What?"

"Boss, we have a problem." It's DiNozzo, and there's a note of urgency in his voice that makes Gibbs forget his irritation in a second. "Mikel Mawher escaped from prison."

Gibbs' mind clears of fatigue instantly, and he gets out of bed, already reaching for his clothes. "Abby?"

"Just tried to call her. Home phone was off the hook, cell's going to voicemail. Boss, I think she-"

"Get over to her place right now. I'll meet you there." Before DiNozzo can respond, he ends the call and looks back through the call log. The hang-up he got five minutes ago was from Abby's apartment, and he hits redial, unable to take Tony's word for it.

Her phone's off the hook, as he said. Gibbs tries her cell as he heads for the door, and her chirpy, pre-recorded voice answers him, asking him to leave a message. By the time the beep sounds, he's tearing down the street toward her place, breaking the speed limit and not giving a damn about it.

He reaches Abby's apartment before DiNozzo does, entering the code to her building from memory and taking the stairs two at a time. Her door stands open, the lights on, a lamp and her telephone knocked to the floor. A Caf-Pow! cup is overturned on the kitchen tiles, spilling red fluid and melting ice.

He's visited Abby here countless times, and always there's been music filling the apartment. This time, there's nothing. Gibbs listens to the faint drone of the dial tone emanating from the fallen phone in numb disbelief, staring at the mess, unable to process the facts for critical seconds.

Hurried footsteps approach behind him, and DiNozzo arrives in the doorway. He surveys the scene with a whispered curse. "Where would he take her?"

The question jerks Gibbs out of his temporary paralysis, and he snaps into action, putting his personal feelings to the back of his mind. "Get David and McGee down here. I want this place sketched, shot, bagged and tagged within the next hour."

DiNozzo nods, taking out his cell and hitting his speed-dial. With a final glance around Abby's apartment, Gibbs heads for the door.

"Uh… Boss? Where are you-"

When Gibbs looks back at him, Tony flinches at the rage in his expression, although he knows it's not aimed at him. "Mawher's cell. I wanna know how the _hell_ he got out, and why he had enough time to come here and _take_ _her_ before anyone saw fit to let us know!"

"We're gonna find her," Tony says quietly, his voice filled with a conviction Gibbs can tell he doesn't feel, deep down.

"You better be right, DiNozzo," he says, shaking his head. "You better be damn right."

* * *

"Special Agent Gibbs!"

When Jenny uses his full title, he knows she's seriously pissed off. But he's none too calm himself. "No, Director! You don't get to call the shots on this one. I'm in the middle of an investigation involving a member of _my_ team, and I'm gonna run that investigation my way."

She meets his stare with one of her own, trying for icy, but she can't hide her concern. "Abby is a forensic scientist under the _agency's_ employ, Jethro; not yours. Her safety is paramount." He opens his mouth to retort, but she cuts across him. "_However_, you're not functioning at full capacity right now. You haven't slept in over thirty-six hours, and you might have your team resting in shifts, but they're not working to the best of their abilities, either. I'm simply asking you to go home and get some sleep, letting Special Agent Stansfield's team take over while you rest. Then you can come back on the job and pick up where you left off, and-"

"Jenny." His eyes are grainy, his mind unfocused and his temperament less than rosy. She expects him to rant at her for a little longer, and his abrupt switch to quiet and reasonable jars her. Folding her arms, she waits for his words.

"With any other member of _my team_," he says, because whether Jen wants to admit it or not, Abby's always been his, "I'd agree with you. But Abby isn't an NCIS agent like DiNozzo and McGee. She's not Mossad, like Ziva. She's a forensic scientist with enough intelligence to know what can go wrong in these situations, and no field experience to help her avoid it. She's alone, she's scared, I need to get her back here, and no one's going to stop me."

Jenny takes a breath, but he cuts her off. "_Regardless_ of rank."

They stare each other out for long moments. Gibbs is exhausted, but in the obstinacy stakes he's always had her beaten. She looks away first, sighing. "Do it your way, Jethro. Just bring her back safely."

He leaves her office without a word. It's been thirty-eight hours since Abby tried to call him, thirty-eight hours since he just rolled over and waited for sleep to claim him. The rational part of his brain knows that the five unsuspecting minutes between her call and DiNozzo's wouldn't have helped Abby even if he'd known what was going on. The part of him that's sick with anxiety and guilt, on the other hand, wants to dominate his thoughts.

Draining his twelfth cup of coffee, he gets back to work.

_

* * *

_

The room is small, claustrophobic rather than cosy, with faded floral wallpaper peeling off the walls. There's a bed, a threadbare armchair, a bookshelf loaded with tatty paperbacks and a dresser complete with a vanity mirror. A door stands half-open that leads to an en-suite bathroom.

_The room could be anywhere; any town, in any country. And sitting in the armchair, a book lying forgotten in her lap, is Abby. She's pale, exhausted and scared, and as she looks up and notices him her eyes fill with tears._

"_Gibbs…"_

_It's just a dream, but he can control his actions. Crossing the room to her in three rapid steps, he kneels in front of the chair, taking her in his arms. "Abby… Thank god."_

"_At least now you know I'm not dead," she says, squeezing him as tightly as he's holding her._

"_Wish I did," he replies softly, reluctant to let her go._

_She pulls back first, looking him in the eyes. "No, seriously, Gibbs. This is totally our psychic connection at work. I kept telling you, but would you listen? Guess it took me fearing for my life to make it work properly, but-"_

"_Abby…" he says, shaking his head as a wave of pain washes over him. Seeing her in this vivid dream, hearing her speak and rationalise things exactly as she would if she were there with him… it makes him crazy. And at the same time it's oddly reassuring._

"_You don't believe me." Her face falls, and she bites her lip, fidgeting. "You have to, Gibbs! This is the only way I have of helping you find me – please, just try not to be such a cynic just this once! For me?"_

_Her desperation strikes an uneasy chord within him. Although he knows it's insane, he decides to humour her; what harm can it do? "Help me, then. Where are you?"_

"_I don't know," she murmurs, defeated. "I don't know anything. All I know is that I got in from Club Alterna at around four, and I locked the door but I was a little tipsy, so I didn't put the security chain on. And I went to the refrigerator and pulled out the Caf-Pow! I'd been saving, and then Mikel was there and he was trying to grab me. I ran for the phone and tried to call you, but he knocked it out of my hand, and then _bam_! Lights out, and I woke up here."_

_He gets to his feet, crossing to the drapes and yanking them open. The window beyond is boarded up, without a hope of seeing out. He tries the door next. Nothing. It really could be any room, in any town, anywhere. "I need more to go on, Abbs. Your trail's completely cold. We got nothing."_

_Her composure crumples just enough for the tears to fall, though she swallows back her sobs. "I don't know. Gibbs, I don't know anything – if I did I swear I'd tell you, you know that, right?"_

_He kisses the top of her head, calming her. "Has he hurt you?"_

_Quickly, she shakes her head. "Apart from a bump to the head and a world of mental scarring? No. I'm fine."_

"_Has he touched you?" He needs to know, though he hates having to ask the question._

"_No. I can't figure him out, Gibbs. He brings me food and sits and talks to me, and then goes away again. He doesn't want anything, he doesn't try anything... If you want the truth it's creeping me out."_

_Footsteps sound down the corridor, faint but getting louder. Abby's voice is full of dread as she whispers, "That's Mikel. I can't keep this up."_

_Gibbs turns to face the door, but she grabs his arm, holding his attention. "Listen. The other day I dropped a CD down the back of my dresser, and I kept meaning to drag it out but I forgot. It's _Desolation Avenue_ by Plastic Death. Go look – it's there, trust me. Then you'll know this isn't a dream."_

_Behind them, the doorknob begins to turn, and he reaches for a weapon he isn't carrying. Just as the door cracks open, the scene fades into blackness._

"Don't give up on me, Gibbs." Her voice follows him into consciousness, and he slowly becomes aware of the bustle of the office around him – phones ringing, agents conversing, keyboards clicking.

He glares at the clock – he's been asleep for thirty minutes, and during that time anything could have happened. Running a weary hand through his hair, he gets up from his desk, studiously ignoring the protests his body makes as it begs for a decent rest.

McGee's shrugging out of his jacket and logging onto his PC, looking only slightly more refreshed than when he left to catch a few hours of sleep. Tony's already left the office to do the same, and Ziva's in the middle of a phone conversation, stifling a yawn.

Gibbs knows how she feels, and it's only that knowledge that stops him from snapping at her. "Anything?" he asks her as she hangs up.

"Nothing. I am sorry."

Nodding, he checks his desk for messages, even opening his email account on the off-chance there's something relevant there. The whole time, the Abby dream haunts him. It seemed so vivd, so true, but he knows it's just his exhausted mind playing tricks on him.

_This is totally our psychic connection at work… I dropped a CD down the back of my dresser… Go look – it's there, trust me._

Abruptly he gets up, tells McGee to call if there's any news, and heads for the door.

**Sooo... any thoughts? :D I'm totally trying not to abandon my other WIPs, but this one is just so tempting...**


	2. Coincidence

**Author's Note**: Aww, you guys... I'm excited that you like it. It's a little _Good Wives Club _from season two, as alix pointed out, but hey. :) Okay, chapter two! :D

* * *

Abby's apartment has been completely picked clean of any relevant evidence – not that there was much of it. Objects have been removed and the whole place has been searched.

Gibbs stands in the doorway for a second, staring around him as if there's something he's missed. He spent a good part of yesterday morning here, looking through everything, feeling a little guilty about invading her privacy. He'd hoped to find journals, letters, anything that might indicate that Mawher had recently contacted her, but there was nothing.

He moves through into her bedroom now, feeling faintly ridiculous. His gut is forcing him to consider something he knows is logically impossible, and he's not sure what he's expecting to find.

Careful not to disturb any of the items scattered across the dresser, he shifts it forward, away from the wall, and gazes down the back. Sure enough, a CD is nestled between the cabinet and the skirting board, as if waiting for rescue. Gibbs stares at it for a long moment, his mind vacillating between hope and scepticism. It's a CD – so what? Abby's apartment is full of them. She loves music as much as she loves science.

Gibbs reaches down and picks it up, examining the circular disc. The silver surface is a little scratched, but reflects a distorted image of his face back up at him.

With trepidation, he turns over the CD, eyes skimming over the text of the label.

_Desolation Avenue_. Plastic Death.

Gibbs doesn't believe in coincidences, but what else can this be? The alternative is ridiculous – no one is capable of communicating by way of a sixth sense. It's just not possible.

He sits on the edge of Abby's bed, staring down at the disc, absent-mindedly twisting it in his fingers. He's cracking up, hallucinating. He has to be. It's the exhaustion getting to him.

He doesn't make a conscious decision to lie back on the bed, his head on Abby's pillow, her scent enveloping and comforting him. It just happens. And when he falls asleep, it's several dreamless hours before Abby comes to him again.

* * *

"_You found it."_

_He's back in the room again, the CD in hand. Abby's lying face-up on the bed, arms folded behind her head, watching him._

"_I did."_

"_Do you believe me now?" she asks, raising herself up on her elbows._

_Does he? He doesn't now. She sees it, and smiles a little through her fear. "I know, I know – it conflicts with your entire outlook on life. Just trust me on this one, Gibbs. Please? We're wasting time."_

_He wants to believe her, because he doesn't want to admit that he's helpless. He doesn't have anything to lose by humouring this dream manifestation of Abby, at least. "How are you doing?"_

_Shrugging, she sits up. "As well as I can be under the circumstances, I guess. It's just… creepy."_

_He sits beside her, and she leans her head against his shoulder, the contact so real he can actually feel it. "Any thoughts about where he could've taken you? Did he contact you while he was inside?"_

_Abby snorts. "Only seven _million_ times. After the first few letters I just started burning them without reading them. Guess that was a mistake, huh? I never thought he'd…"_

"_Not your fault, Abbs."_

"_Oh, I know," she replies, glaring at the door as if Mawher's waiting just on the other side. "This is _all_ on him, believe me. He comes in, he watches me eat, he talks to me like the past two years never happened and everything's just fine between us… I don't get it. At least before he was busy plotting my 'suicide'."_

"_He hasn't told you why you're here?" Gibbs thinks he can guess, but confirmation can't hurt._

_She shakes her head. "No. And I don't wanna ask in case I say something that makes him crazy."_

_He's already criminally insane, and Gibbs gets the feeling it won't take much to push him over the edge one way or another. "Be careful with him. Act as normally as you can, don't do anything to piss him off, but see what clues he'll drop when his guard's down."_

"_Okay," she agrees, setting aside some of her dread in favour of determination._

_For a second they're silent, unspoken sentiments of reassurance and gratitude in the air. There's a distant drone of traffic in the distance, indicating that she's being held in an urban area, but nothing more distinctive than that._

"_I'm sorry, Abbs." The words leave his mouth before he realises he's about to say them._

"_For what?" She frowns up at him._

"_You called me, and by the time I picked up he'd taken you. If I'd-"_

_Abby punches him lightly in the arm, silencing him. "Don't even think that! The phone rang literally three times before Mikel disconnected the call. There's no way you could've answered in time."_

_He's not completely convinced, but he takes the absolution she offers with a slight nod._

"_I keep thinking that I must know more than I think I do," Abby says, her brow furrowed in thought. "I mean, he did kidnap me."_

"_How long have you been in here?" he asks, hoping to estimate how long she was unconscious and apply a maximum distance she could be from her apartment._

_Distressed, she shrugs. "I don't have any way of keeping time. Six meals, I know that much, and the last one was hours ago, so it must be the middle of the night now. So two days, and the first meal was breakfast a couple hours after I woke up. Maybe."_

"_Anywhere between thirty-eight and forty-one hours," he guesses. "With anything up to four hours travelling time. Not long enough to get you out of the country, and probably not out further than Virginia."_

"_That's good, right?" she asks hopefully._

_It's a vast area, and he has no idea where to begin searching. "It's a start."_

_She knows him well enough to see he needs more, and bites her lip, plucking at a loose thread in the bedspread. Gibbs kisses the top of her head, trying to pull her back to optimism. "I'm not giving up on you, Abbs. See if you can get him talking, ask him to bring you a radio, try and pick up a local news station, narrow it down."_

"_I'll be in touch as soon as I know anything," she says, her smile a little forced as she puts on a brave face. "You better get some more sleep."_

_Before he can respond, she fades out, and he's left with the impression of her arms encircling him in a quick hug as she vanishes from his sight._


	3. Technique

**Author's Note**: Hi all! Still not connected to the internet and it's nearly time for NCIS to start airing again - I live in the UK and watch it online, and I can't BELIEVE I'm going to have to wait to see it. Aaargh. Ah, well... it'll give me more time to write, I guess. I'm so happy that people are enjoying this - here comes another chapter!

* * *

For a week he hears nothing. Abby doesn't visit his dreams, and he's forced to accept the fact that they were just delusions brought on by guilt and lack of sleep. Abby's trail, already cold, yields no new clues.

Telling her family she's missing is one of the hardest things he's ever had to do. It's three days into her disappearance before he remembers they don't know, and he drives out to her parents' place that afternoon. Gloria and Daniel are both deaf, and he signs the bad news slowly, feeling the knowledge sink further into his soul as he communicates it to them. Watching them crumple under the weight of their grief, silently demanding of him with shaking hands why the hell he didn't tell them immediately, almost destroys him.

The entire agency is subdued – Abby is well-known and well-liked throughout the building, and her absence has disheartened them all. McGee spends vast amounts of time staring numbly into space, trying to come to terms with her disappearance. DiNozzo is more antagonistic and scathing than usual, and Ziva responds with her usual hot-tempered retorts. Ducky spends time trying to get Gibbs to open up, and Gibbs responds in monosyllables.

When Jenny allocates his team another case, pushing Abby's to the back burner, he thinks about resisting. But the last eight days have been filled with arguments, frayed tempers – mostly his – and dead ends. They're getting nowhere, and as much as he hates to admit it, he needs something to distract himself.

Two days into the new investigation – ten days after Abby's disappearance – he attempts to get some sleep, and the first thing he sees when he closes his eyes is Abby's prison.

_She's curled in a foetal position under the blankets, and he can't see her face at first. She doesn't move, and his first horrified thought is that she's dead. "Abby."_

_Slowly, she lifts her head, and the fading bruise that mars her cheekbone sends a spark of anger through him. "Are you okay?"_

"_You're here," she whispers, as if she can't believe it. "I thought…"_

_He helps her to sit up, and she curls up against him, swallowing back tears. "What happened?" he asks, knowing he's not going to like the answer._

"_A few hours after you left, Mikel came to see me. We talked for a while, and he said…" She falters, takes a breath. "Some stuff that made me totally disregard every piece of advice you've ever given me. I'm sorry, Gibbs. I was stupid."_

_He waits for her to collect her thoughts, and she grows steadily more alert, as if waking from a stupor. "He had this…this friend in prison. He didn't say what his name was, but he gave Mikel some _wonderful_ ideas on how to totally brainwash me into falling in love with him. 'Changing my way of thinking', he called it. A four-step program. He didn't give any specifics, and I didn't want to wait to find out. When he left the room… I kinda tried to fight my way past him."_

_Gibbs closes his eyes, trying not to imagine how badly that would have ended up. The need to protect her intensifies to overwhelming proportions, and he grits his teeth against the urge to track down Mawher and kill him. "How hurt were you?"_

_She shakes her head in response, smiling wanly. "Not very. I mean, he hit me in the face and then threw me back against the wall, where I hit my head and blacked out…" She touches the bruise on her cheek to demonstrate. "But it could've been worse, Gibbs. A lot worse."_

_It could have, but that doesn't make the knowledge any easier to bear. "You should have contacted me." He doesn't know exactly when his belief in her ESP abilities became real, but the things she's saying are too lucid, too plausible, to be his own fevered imaginings._

"_I tried, but he… he drugged me. Some sort of soporific, I couldn't tell you what without getting it under the microscope. I don't know how long for, but it was days. I couldn't concentrate. This is the first time I've been able to focus enough to reach out to you."_

_The thought of her floating, terrified, in and out of consciousness inflames his rage even further, and he balls his hands into fists. She notices and lays a hand over his. "I'm fine. Conscious, even. It's an improvement."_

_He laces his fingers through hers, hearing the tremor in her voice, and she looks up into his face, startled. Something passes between them, but it's momentary, and they break eye contact simultaneously, smiling a little._

"_Any leads?" she asks to fill the silence._

_He can't tell her he's working another case along with hers, or that people all over the agency have lost hope that she'll be found alive. "We'll track down this friend of Mawher's and we'll make him talk."_

"_I know you will," she says, her faith in him both touching and guilt-inspiring. He should've found her by now. "Now get back out there."_

_He's reluctant to leave her, but she pushes him out of the dream with a wan smile and a wave, and he wakes immediately, his resolve renewed._

* * *

They've already interviewed everyone who could possibly have spoken to Mawher within the last six months of his incarceration, but when Gibbs mentions the phrase 'changing someone's way of thinking', the chief warden indicates Edward Ridgeway without hesitation.

The convict is transferred to one of the prison's interview rooms, and Gibbs sits down opposite him, reining his anger under control and levelling his usual impassive stare at the guy.

"Ed Ridgeway," he reads from the file in front of him. "Clinical psychologist, specialising in cognitive behavioural therapy with a sideline in long-term kidnap and sexual assault."

Ridgeway's a tall, thin, angular man with an unshakably calm demeanour and an air of affected innocence. "Special Agent Gibbs, I believe you've already asked me every question in the book. What more can I do for you?"

"You can tell me how you brainwashed your victims," Gibbs snaps, "and how many of those stories you shared with Mikel Mawher."

"I take it she's still missing, then. The girl. Abby." He smirks. "Mike had a picture of her. She's pretty. I can see why he wants her." Off Gibbs' murderous expression, he leans back in his chair, amused. "Okay, okay. So if I tell you, what do I get in return?"

Ordinarily, Gibbs wouldn't even consider granting a convicted felon's requests, but with no leads and Abby counting on him to find her, there's no choice. "What do you want?"

"I want them to stop denying the press access to me. I want an agent to look at my autobiography, and I want some publicity before the book comes out."

Typical narcissistic egomaniac. It goes against everything in his nature to agree, but Abby's voice pleads with him. _Don't give up on me, Gibbs._ "If you give me information that helps us find her, you got it. So tell me. You knew Mawher well?"

"Not well. Enough to know he was obsessed with that girl. His cellmate said he'd cry himself to sleep at night because he couldn't have her. She was all he talked about. Believe me, I know things about her that _you_ probably don't even know." At his significant expression, Gibbs almost gives in to the urge to break the guy's nose.

"What crap did you feed him?" he growls, hanging onto his composure by a thread.

"Surely you've heard of Stockholm Syndrome, Agent Gibbs?"

He's heard of it, has dealt with more than one instance of it throughout the course of his career. The one that stands out bears a striking similarity to Abby's case now – women locked in a room for months with no company but the daily visits of their kidnapper. "The emotional attachment a victim forms to their captor," he says, repelled by the smug enjoyment on the other man's face. "Heard your last victim had a tough time with it."

"I hear she's still in love with me," he says. "And that was down to the technique I taught Mikel. You see, Stockholm Syndrome isn't a given. It happens, yes, but not always. Just as people caught in traumatic events do not always develop post-traumatic stress disorder."

Gibbs has read his casefile, and he knows Ridgeway's victim, Sarah Clarke, is on suicide watch at the nearby mental institution, repulsed to the point of self-loathing by her remembered feelings for this maniac. His greatest fear is that Abby will end up the same way. "This technique. I want every detail."


	4. What if?

**Author's Note**: I feel so guilty for upsetting poor Abby. XD I'm not usually heavy on the angst-fic, but this one is waaaay depressing. And probably really unrealistic – there's no way Gibbs would take over a week to find her. But hey! Suspension of disbelief and all that. Thanks for the comments, guys. Here's a little more. :)

_

* * *

_

When he returns to Abby's room, she's slamming one of her heavy, steel toe-capped boots against the boarded-up window over and over again, trying to break through. She doesn't seem to notice him at first; she's completely focused on the task, her jaw set stubbornly.

_"Hey."_

_She drops the boot and spins to face him, and in the instant before she realises it's him she can't hide the terror she feels. Then her expression lapses into relief, and she sags back against the wall. "Gibbs, you scared me! How are you here? I wasn't trying to reach you."_

_"Maybe _I _wanted to reach _you_," he points out._

_"Yeah, but that would indicate your trademark cynicism's diminishing," she says, cracking a subdued smile._

_He knows he should make small-talk, make her feel at ease, but in light of what he's learned the words freeze in his throat. Abby picks up on his mood and takes a step toward him. "You know something."_

_Gibbs sits on the bed and motions for her to join him. Anxiously, she twists her hands in her lap. "Don't hold out on me, Gibbs."_

_"You've heard of Stockholm Syndrome?"_

_Her smile is humourless and bitter. "I've spent over a week worrying I'll get it. Benefits of an analytical mind, huh?"_

_He tries to reassure her, but she throws up a hand to stop him. "Just tell me. Please. I can take it."_

_He does, outlining it simply, not over-embellishing, downplaying it as much as he can. The whole time, Ridgeway's words resound through his mind._

"Take the subject, lock her in a room and bring food to her at mealtimes. Give her a few days to realise there's no hope of escape, and when she gets desperate enough to try and fight her way out, drug her for at least a week. That's step one.

"Come the end of that period, the fight will have gone out of her. When that happens, start step two: denying her food. Come in once a day to give her enough to survive, but don't look at her or speak to her. Let her feel the loss of social interaction, and keep her hungry enough that she longs for your visits. This is when she'll start to need you.

"When she starts begging you to stay with her, to talk to her, anything… that's when you move onto step three: trust. Let her out into the rest of the apartment, allow her to help you prepare meals, watch DVDs with you – never TV in case she sees the news and wants to reconnect with the outside world. If at any point she shows signs of mistrust or rebelliousness, regress her back to step two.

"Over the next year or so she'll get so attached to you that you can start step four: slowly giving her back her freedom. Life will gradually get back to normal, and she'll stay with you, even tell people it was her idea to leave in the first place because she's afraid of losing you. It takes time, but it works, Special Agent Gibbs. Trust me. I've seen it. I've done it."

_Abby listens in silence, her shoulders tense. When he finishes, she picks up her fallen boot and hurls it with all her strength at the door. It ricochets off with a loud thud, and she stares at it, her face pale with fear and fury._

_"Be careful," Gibbs cautions her. "You fight back too much, you're gonna piss him off."_

_"He's out," she says softly. "I heard him leave."_

_He lets her absorb the information, waiting for her to speak again. When she does, her voice trembles. "What do I do, Gibbs? What if it works?"_

_"You know what to expect now. And as long as we keep up these visits he won't be able to put you in total isolation. This won't work, Abbs. I promise you." He hopes to god he's right._

_"What if you can't find me? What if when I don't respond the way he thinks I will he drops that idea and goes back to his nice, neat assisted-suicide plot? What if-"_

_It kills him to see her falling apart this way. He grips her shoulders and cuts across her sharply, knowing that nothing else will force her out of the panicked spiral her mind is in. "Abby."_

_She falls silent, staring at him, grounded by his hands and his voice. Outside on the street, music from a passing car's radio grows louder as the vehicle approaches, followed by a radio-station jingle. He doesn't recognise it, can hardly make out the words, but Abby's head snaps toward the window instantly. "Did you hear that?"_

_"You've heard it before?" he asks, his sense of urgency renewed._

_She nods excitedly, a genuine smile spreading across her face. "Guess I won't need to get Mikel to give me a radio, after all. I'm in Virginia, Gibbs. Somewhere within reception of Wave FM."_

_For the first time in days, a tingle of optimism goes through him. "How large an area does that cover?" He's so used to going to her for answers that he doesn't stop to think before asking._

_She rolls her eyes. "Do I look like I have a phone and an internet connection here? You'll have to call McGee in on that one."_

_"What ties does Mawher have to Virginia that I might not know about?" he asks._

_She frowns, thinking. "His uncle owns a cabin outside of Hopewell – we used to go up there every few weeks, mostly with friends, sometimes alone. I'm definitely not there, though – it was off the beaten track and there's way too much traffic passing. Other than that… I can't think of anything, but if something else comes to me, I'll let you know."_

_He needs to get going, but he's loath to leave her so soon after revealing Mikel's endgame to her. "Will you-"_

_Abby reads his mind. "The sooner you go, the sooner you'll find me, and the sooner I'll get out of here."_

_He nods, and she begins to fade out. For a few seconds his subconscious holds onto the vision, and as soon as she thinks he's gone the brave front she presents to him collapses. Her shoulders drop and she sags back on the bed, drawing her knees up to her chest. "Hurry, Gibbs," she whispers to the empty air, and then he loses his grip on the scene, slipping back into consciousness._

* * *

"Are you reading Abby's blog again?" Ziva asks incredulously. "Tony, that entry is about a date she went on with McGee back before she even met Mawher – it's completely irrelevant. Don't you feel even a little guilty about invading her privacy? Not to mention McGee's?"

"Speaks to the victim's state of mind," Tony says distractedly, without looking up.

McGee slowly looks up from his computer screen, staring at Tony. "She might be dead."

"I get it. Abby's in trouble. That's why I'm looking over this stuff again, McObvious," Tony snaps. "It beats staring into space!"

"McGee!"

Gibbs strides into the office, and McGee gets to his feet in a hurry. "Boss, you found something? A lead? Is Abby-"

Behind him, Tony and Ziva listen intently. Gibbs feels their curious eyes bore into his back, but he ignores them for now. "I need to know the broadcasting range of a Virginia radio station. Wave FM."

He can see McGee's mind scrambling to make sense of his request, but he draws a blank. "I don't-"

"Just do it, McGee!" He has no idea how he's going to explain how he came by this information, and this time a simple 'my gut' isn't gonna cut it. Luckily he trained his agents to follow orders now, ask questions later, and McGee nods, beginning his research.

"It's not a huge station. It's broadcast from an office block in Richmond, and it only covers a twenty mile radius."

"Look at Mawher's file again," Gibbs orders. "If there's a record of him going anywhere within that area in the past two years, I want to know about it."

"On it, Boss," Tony and McGee say in unison, relieved to be focusing on something constructive again.

Ziva's a little less accepting of the situation. "Can I ask where this intel has come from?"

"Just do it, David," Gibbs snaps, plucking the printouts of Abby's blog from Tony's desk and sitting down to study them again. Entries relevant to Mawher have been highlighted in orange, and he reads them through, noting how her tone gradually morphs from infatuated to pissed off to fearful as time goes on.

Her most recent entries are clipped, frustrated, with occasional paraphrased lines from the letters Mawher was sending her from his cell. '_I love you, Abby, you need me, Abby, we were great together, Abby, blah blah blah_. How long can he possibly keep obsessing over me?!'

Gibbs understands why she burned the letters, but he wishes she hadn't. He's clutching at straws, investigating impossible leads, hoping against hope that he's overlooked something. And all the while, Abby's sitting in a cramped, shabby room in an apartment somewhere in Virginia, counting on him to find her.

The thought that he might not succeed isn't one he can afford to entertain.


	5. Sunlight Withdrawal

**Author's Note**: This chapter turned out so depressing that I had to put some kissage in it. Pretty much my solution to everything. XD

* * *

They go over everything again, speaking to Abby's closest friends, Mawher's acquaintances, the prison staff and inmates, searching out any mention of Richmond or the surrounding area. A few things turn up, but they turn out to be dead ends. Although Gibbs knows Abby's in an urban area – probably Richmond itself judging by the volume of traffic – he goes up to Mawher's uncle's cabin, finding enough marijuana to keep the occupants doped up for a year, but no trace of Abby.

He visits her every time he falls asleep, trying to keep her spirits up. The bastard has started depriving her of food, as Ridgeway had predicted, and the sparse meals have a psychological effect as well as a physical one. It's getting more and more difficult for her to keep her cheerful façade in place, and as her trademark Abby-babble fades further into memory, Gibbs gets the sense that she's losing her battle against despair.

_A few days into Mawher's installation of step two, after hours of frustration and helplessness at the Navy Yard, Gibbs arrives into Abby's prison to find her curled up in the corner, her body wracked with sobs. When she sees him she attempts to compose herself, brushing at her tear-stained cheeks with the sleeve of her shirt._

_"Sorry."_

_His heart breaks at the word, and he sits beside her, laying a concerned hand on her shoulder. "Never be sorry around me, Abby."_

_She nods and lets him hold her, her breath calming at the feel of his arms around her, the sound of his heartbeat in her ear. When she speaks, the words are uttered with no emotion, as if she's locked everything away. "I miss the sun, how weird is that?"_

_He can't remember a time he's seen her outside the office without her lacy black parasol to keep her shaded. For her to miss something she tries to avoid whenever possible speaks volumes. There's nothing he can say; he kisses the top of her head as she continues._

_"I miss my family. I miss Bert. I miss my lab, and Ducky's stories, and the way Ziva messes up her English sometimes… And I miss Tony's movie references, and the way McGee goes pink and stammers when you say something totally inappropriate to him… And music. Seriously – I wouldn't even care if it was Celine Dion. I'm going nuts without music, and Mikel won't even…"_

_Her foot taps out a distressed rhythm against the carpet as she voices the thoughts that have been running on a loop through her head for days. "And Caf-Pow!," she finishes, her voice no more than a whisper. "I think I'd actually give one of my legs for Caf-Pow! right now."_

_Gibbs speaks to her of trivial things, everything that comes into his head. He doesn't know if it will hurt or heal, but his aim is to distract her, and it works. She chimes in occasionally with soft observations, and he feels her beginning to relax._

_After a while he runs out of things to say, and she speaks slowly into the silence. "I keep thinking… that maybe you're not here. Maybe my mind broke under the strain of being here, and I've been hallucinating you all along."_

_He remembers how he thought the same thing, in the beginning. How he thought his guilt had taken on a tangible form to allow him to deal with her disappearance. "I thought the same thing about you, for a while."_

_His frankness coaxes a wan smile to her face. "You just wanted to explain away the psychic stuff," she accuses, and he doesn't contradict her._

_Her expression sobers. "I love you, Gibbs," she whispers. "I don't wanna die without telling you that."_

_"You're not gonna die." He makes sure she can feel the conviction in his words, tilting up her chin to meet her eyes. "Don't you dare give up on me, Abby."_

_For a second she just stares up at him, unable to move. There are only inches between them, and he can almost feel her pulse accelerate to match his own. Hesitantly, she pushes her lips against his, and a jolt of need overtakes his common sense. Instead of pulling away like he knows he should, he kisses her back, holding her closer._

_When they break for air, neither of them is thinking about death any more. For long moments Gibbs battles his conscience, and his conscience wins. She's lonely, frightened, drained and in desperate need of comfort and reassurance. To yield to her now would be taking advantage._

_"Abby…"_

_She pre-empts him, not with anger or embarrassment as he'd expected, but with a kind of resigned amusement. "Don't even start with the psychological bullshit, Gibbs. I've been waiting to do that for years. And if you don't believe me… I'm guessing McGee went through my hard drive and my web links and all that stuff?"_

_He can only nod, and she continues, "Then you'll have my blog. I made an entry just before Christmas last year – I remember because I was trying to convince you to actually celebrate it."_

_He remembers the conversation. He'd ended up having Christmas lunch with her family, which turned out less awkward than he'd expected. He's always found it difficult to say no to her, and that year was no exception._

_"Read it, and then worry about how my current mental state is affecting my judgment." She snuggles back within the circle of his arms, closing her eyes, and he wills the instinct to kiss her again under control. He breathes in time with her almost without realising it, his mind a mass of tangled arguments, for this and against that._

_One thing he knows for sure – he can't sit idly by any more, waiting for a clue to drop into his lap. The alternative places unconscionable risk on Abby, but his gut tells him it'll pay off._

_He hardly dares to consider it, though. "Do you trust me?"_

_She doesn't move or hesitate. "With my life."_

_"I have an idea, but if it goes wrong it could make things worse for you."_

_Abby struggles upright, swaying a little as the lack of food makes her lightheaded. "I'd be willing to try anything at this point."_

_He outlines his plan, the effect he thinks it will have on Mawher, the chain of events he hopes will result. Abby listens without interrupting, nodding slowly. "I know Mikel," she says when he finishes. "I think it'll work."_

_"When do you want to try it?"_

_She thinks. "He last brought me food… morning, I'd guess. He's an early riser. Around six? And it's the same time every day. He always did love his rituals." Her words are tinged with bitterness even as she casts a longing glance at the empty plate beside her. "I'll do it next time he comes in, if you'll be around to call. I get the feeling it's gonna take a couple of days for him to get freaked out enough, though."_

_He squeezes her hand. "I'll be there."_


	6. The Plan

**Author's Note**: Okay, so, the plan! Possibly a little melodramatic. Not sure, let me know if I came on a little strong! Thank you all for the lovely reviews, and for sticking with me. :)

* * *

What to do between now and six a.m.? Gibbs knows he should be sleeping, but although it's been almost twenty-four hours since he last rested, he can't relax. Instead, he heads out to his car and grabs Abby's casefile, complete with a hard copy of her online blog.

_I made an entry just before Christmas last year…_

Dosing himself with more coffee, he begins to search through the pages, starting with Christmas and working back.

December twenty-fourth. _I'm so excited about Christmas! I always get this way – just like a little kid. Okay, maybe it's more caffeine-fuelled these days, but…_

December nineteenth. _Is it just me, or do less people get murdered in December than the rest of the year? Work has been so quiet…_

December seventeenth. Earlier in the week he'd walked into the squad room to find Tony and McGee trying to pinpoint who this entry was about, an activity he'd curtailed by dealing out a couple of swift headslaps.

_Why do I always want the one guy I can't have? I spent like three hours talking to him today, and now I just feel totally insane. The weird thing is, we're nothing alike, but we get on so well… He knows me better than anyone. I'd write more, but I swear he has eyes and ears everywhere, and if he ever found out it'd probably screw up what we have, and I don't even wanna think about that happening. In other news…_

Gibbs reads over the paragraph several times, remembering the feel of her lips softly seeking his, her tiny gasp as he responded to her. The spark that's always lain unacknowledged between them had fanned into a heat so intense that it had taken him monumental effort to restrain himself.

If his plan fails and she dies…

His mind is so preoccupied that he finds it hard to fall asleep. When he eventually manages it, it's only a few minutes before Abby predicted Mawher would next bring her food.

"_Gibbs!" She sags back against the wall, relieved. "Cutting it a little close, aren't you?"_

"_Couldn't sleep," he tells her._

_Despite her nerves, she catches onto the reason for his insomnia, and one eyebrow quirks up as a slow smile creeps over her face. He shakes his head slightly. "Later, Abby…"_

_She gets back on topic, her face conflicted as she looks toward the door. "I almost want him to come in. I'm so hungry…"_

"_This is gonna work."_

_Abby nods, taking a deep breath. "I'm ready. Can you talk me through it?"_

_Before he can answer, footsteps approach the door, and she draws her knees up to her chest reflexively, unable to mask the dread on her face._

"_You're gonna be fine," Gibbs says, but she doesn't seem to hear him._

_The door opens, and Mawher steps in, holding a plate of food. It's the first time Gibbs has laid eyes on him since he testified at the trial that put him away, but prison hasn't changed him in the slightest. He's thin, pale, nervous-looking, and for a split-second before he remembers this stage of his program is to deprive her of attention, his eyes seek out Abby hungrily._

_Abby watches him put the plate on the dresser, her body completely motionless. She seems frozen, unable to speak._

"_Don't look at him, look at me, Abby," Gibbs says softly. She can't tear her eyes from him, and he continues more forcefully. "Abby. Look at me."_

_Blinking rapidly, she meets his eyes, and a sense of purpose seeps into her. She nods and takes a deep breath. "Tell me stuff."_

_Mawher hesitates at the sound of her voice, but resists the urge to look around. He assumes she's talking to him._

_Gibbs says, "Your lab's a mess."_

_Of all the things he could have said, he knows this is the one that'll focus her attention the best. Some of the colour returns to her face, and she scowls. "What?! Why?"_

_Mawher casts a sideways glance at her with a slight frown, but shrugs off the comment and turns to leave._

"_Cause there's been a temp working there for two weeks," Gibbs answers her question, appealing to her angry side, keeping her attention on him._

"_Oh my god, Gibbs! Couldn't you stop them?"_

_There's no way Mawher can fail to notice that something's wrong now. He's openly staring at her, and she gives a slight shudder._

"_You do the work of ten people, Abbs. Whether you're there or not, the agency needs results."_

_She sighs. "I know, but… my lab's like my second home! It needs to be kept clean and orderly, otherwise casefiles get mixed and evidence gets contaminated, and before long it's chaos!"_

_Mawher vacillates for a couple of seconds more, completely caught off guard by this turn of events. Although it goes against this step of his screwed-up program, he turns and crouches beside her. "Abby?"_

_Her eyes widen a little, her only concession to the terror that threatens to claim her. Gibbs sees beyond the mask and knows she's in danger of cracking. "He's just out of grad school, and he knocked your stuffed hippo into a tray of samples on his first day."_

_He's making things up now, but if it keeps her focused on him he doesn't care._

"_Bert?!" Abby cries, staring at him. "Please tell me none of those samples were soaked in any kind of acid…"_

_Gibbs notices a subtle shift in Mawher's arm muscles, and knows he's about to reach out to her. More than anything, he wants to tell her to fight back, to knock him away and run for the door, but she hasn't eaten for twenty-four hours and she wouldn't have the strength. Even if by some miracle she did manage to strike him unconscious, she might not be able to get out of the apartment._

_Instead, he says, an edge to his voice, "Abby, keep your eyes on me."_

_A split second later, Mawher grabs her shoulders. Abby flinches, her gaze wavering, but she doesn't look at Mawher or acknowledge his presence. "What kind of acid? Hydrochloric? Sulphuric?" Her voice is softer, but it trembles only a little._

_Gibbs forces himself to think about it. "The kind that bleaches the colour out of fabric."_

"_Abby, look at me! Who're you talking to?" Mawher shakes her shoulders a little, blocking her line of sight, but Abby stares at a point above his head, even smiling a little._

"_You're totally lying to me, aren't you? Bert's fine."_

"_Bert? Bert who?" Mawher demands. "Did I break you? Did you lose it?"_

"_Yeah," Gibbs replies, praying she'll have the fortitude to last just a little longer, "but it kept your attention."_

_A little hysterical, Abby begins to giggle. "I can't believe you lied to me, Gibbs! You never lie to me!"_

"_And I never will again," he promises her. "Ease off, Abbs. Let him think you're heading for catatonia."_

_She leans her head back against the wall, closing her eyes, letting the amusement drain out of her and becoming still again. Mawher shakes her a few more times, repeating her name, but she remains as relaxed as a rag doll, barely seeming to breathe._

_He steps back, a sick look on his face, and heads out of the room with a last uneasy glance. The door shuts and locks behind him, and Abby sits forward, pale and shaking and stunned to be in one piece._

_Gibbs goes to her side immediately, enfolding her in his arms, murmuring reassurances. Abby clings to him, and he doesn't draw back until her body's stopped trembling._

"_Think he bought it?" she whispers, wary of speaking too loudly in case he's outside the door, listening._

"_Oh, he did," Gibbs confirms. "You had _me_ half-fooled."_

_She tries a smile, but falls short of convincing him. "I don't think I should eat that," she says, her eyes on the food Mawher left behind him. _

"_He'll contact Ridgeway whether you eat or not," he replies, concerned that she might be taking this a little too far. "Keep your strength up."_

_Abby crosses the room a little unsteadily and picks up the plate – a sandwich and an apple are all that are on it. There's enough food to keep her body from shutting down, but nothing more. For a couple of seconds she stares down at the sandwich, and then she closes her eyes and turns her back on it. "I don't think there's any other way. He'll hang on until he thinks I'm gonna die, Gibbs. A hunger strike's the best way to convince him of that."_

_She sits back beside him, leaning against him for comfort, her body tense as the enormity of what she's trying to achieve sinks in. And Gibbs hates to admit it, but she's right. He wants to ignore his gut, to order her to eat and not let up until she gives way, but he can't. "I'm gonna find you, Abbs. Before the weekend."_

"_What day is it?"_

"_Thursday morning." He's counting on Mawher panicking before Friday noon._

_He stays with Abby until he's sure her captor won't be back for a few hours, at least. Urgency is beginning to nibble at the corners of his mind again; he knows he should be out there ordering for any communication Ridgeway receives to be monitored, checking up on the BOLO he put out on Mawher in the Richmond area. She senses his mood and sends him a wan smile._

"_Go do what you have to do, Gibbs. I'll just hang here for a while." As if she has a choice._

_He promises to be back as soon as he can, and leaves her, clawing his way back to consciousness with an effort. He's hardly slept at all, but he has things to do._


	7. ParanormalPhobic

**Author's Note**: Not sure if it was a good thing or not bringing Ziva into the secret. But it just happened, so what the hell. I'd be interested to know what you think... Thanks for the comments, everyone!

* * *

Ziva is already at the Navy Yard when Gibbs arrives, as on most mornings. She's an even earlier riser than he is, and when he strides into the squad room she looks up from the autopsy report on the murdered sailor case they're supposed to be working, a little surprised. "Good morning."

"Drop that for now, Ziva." He outlines what he needs, and she lets him finish before speaking.

"Why is this necessary? What are you not telling us?"

"Just do it, Ziva…"

She gets to her feet, her expression mutinous. "No, I will not! Not until you tell me what you are basing this course of action upon! I am an investigator; that is what you are paying me for, yes? But I cannot do my job properly without being in full possession of the facts – surely you of all people should understand that!"

He hates to admit it, but she has a point. If their positions were reversed, he would feel exactly the same. The truth is just too insane to admit to, but a lie wouldn't convince her.

Ziva's staring at him, waiting for answers, and he can sense her concern behind her anger. Gibbs knows Abby's disappearance has been as hard on her as anyone – though it took a long time for Abby to warm to her after Kate's death, a solid friendship has begun to form between them.

Come to think of it, he once walked into Abby's lab to find her deep in conversation with Ziva about the paranormal….

What the hell. "Abby ever mention her theory that she and I are psychically connected?"

Her eyebrows lift. "Yes. And I believe such a thing is possible, in theory. But I did not think someone as rational and sceptical as you would even think twice about it."

"Didn't either until Abby started talking to me while I slept."

Ziva's first reaction is, predictably, one of caution. "I know how close you are to Abby. Isn't it possible that your subconscious-?"

He interrupts her calmly, relating how she directed him to the CD down the back of her dresser, how her details were correct down to the title of the album. How she gave him the phrase 'changing someone's way of thinking' and how the prison staff recalled Ed Ridgeway right away. The snippet of radio jingle, and his plan to locate Abby. He doesn't care if Ziva believes him or not; he just wants to speak the words, to get them out of his mind and into the air.

Ziva seems a little spooked by the time he finishes, her expression disconcerted. Gibbs doesn't blame her.

"I will get onto the prison and the Richmond local LEOs," she says quietly, picking up the phone.

"You okay?" he asks her, a little surprised by her subdued attitude.

"I am paranormal-phobic," she replies, her tone abrupt. "Please do not tell Tony – he would make my life a living nightmare."

"I won't tell him if you keep what I've told you to yourself," Gibbs says, and she nods, sealing the bargain and beginning to dial a number.

_

* * *

_

Hours later, with nothing to report, Gibbs falls into a doze within the shell of his boat, his mind reaching out for Abby. He still isn't sure how he manages to locate her, only that it happens.

_She's curled up against the pillows, her duvet wrapped around her, and manages a weary smile as she notices him. "What do you have for me, Gibbs?"_

_The irony isn't lost on him. "You only gave me this evidence two hours ago, Abby. DNA doesn't sequence itself."_

_Abby giggles. "Kinda cool to have the roles reversed once in a while."_

"_Speak for yourself," he replies dryly, sitting beside her. "How're you holding up?"_

_She draws the covers tighter against her body; he knows the lack of food is making her more susceptible to the chill in the air. "Nothing a Caf-Pow! and a pizza couldn't cure. Did Mikel-?"_

"_Not yet. But he will, and we have audio surveillance in place for when he does."_

_Abby nods as if she figured that would be his answer. "Good job, Gibbs," she says, paraphrasing words he's said to her a million times. And then she leans in and kisses his cheek, her lips lingering a fraction of a second longer than necessary._

_The sensation of her skin against his in this not-quite-innocent touch stirs the memory of their kiss the day before, and he instinctively cups her face in his hand as she begins to draw away. The kiss is slow, charged with emotion, affirmation sought and given on both sides. Her body moulds against his, seeking contact, and by the time he pulls back to look at her she's trembling with more than just fatigue._

_She's subdued and exhausted, but she's still his Abby. "You found it, huh?" she asks softly, and he knows she means her blog entry._

"_I did."_

_He expects her to push him for details, but she just smiles and rests her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes. "I swear, if I had the strength to move..."_

_Gibbs pushes aside the answering instinct within him, a desire that's completely inappropriate under the circumstances. "Later, Abbs…"_

"_Promise?" she murmurs._

"_Have I ever lied to you?"_

_She doesn't answer, and he glances down at her. The top of her head tells him nothing, but her slow, even breathing indicates that she's drifted off into slumber. He doesn't know how long it's been since she last let herself sleep, but he's glad she's surrendered to her weariness. For a long time he holds her, doing nothing but listen to her breathe, and eventually feels the pull of sleep himself._

_When he wakes, it's to stiff, sore muscles in the pre-dawn gloom of his basement. He feels the loss of her company more profoundly than he would have thought possible, and his gut tells him that today's the day everything will be won or lost._


	8. Adrenaline

**Author's Note**: Wow, can't believe I'm almost done with this fic already... Hope everyone's enjoying. Still offline - le sigh - but never mind.

* * *

"Gibbs." Ziva's voice is sharp, and he looks up immediately, knowing that something's happening at last. McGee and DiNozzo quit bickering as he crosses to her desk. "We have contact."

"McGee, run a trace," he snaps tersely, and McGee obeys without question, hearing the urgency in his voice.

"Okay. Put him through to Ridgeway," Ziva tells the prison officer. She puts the phone on speaker, and they all listen in silence to the voice of the man they've been trying to track down for almost two weeks.

"Ed, it's me, man."

For a moment the line is quiet. When Ridgeway speaks, his voice is incredulous. "_Mawher? _You _want_ the cops to find you? What the hell are you doing calling here when you managed to get out?"

"I know, I know, but listen." Mikel's voice is low, rapid, panicked. Faint traffic sounds emanate from the speaker; he's using a payphone. Smart – but maybe not smart enough. "I need your help. See, everything was going fine up until a couple days ago. Then she… she stopped eating, like she'd rather starve herself than be with me."

He sounds broken, as if the notion shocks and wounds him. Across the room, McGee looks up from the trace, staring at Ziva's phone in horror as he realises Abby's predicament. Gibbs shakes his head in warning, and he nods, returning to work.

"What a surprise," Ridgeway says dryly. "How was she acting?"

"Crazy," Mawher answers.

"Pot… kettle…" Tony mutters. Ziva raises a hand to shut him up, the tension evident in her posture.

Ridgeway's voice is amused. "I'm a psychologist. You're gonna have to narrow it down."

"Talking to herself. Or to a guy who wasn't there, her boss. And then she just seemed to zone out, and then she stopped eating."

McGee's computer beeps, and he picks up the phone, speaking softly to the local LEOs wherever the trace ended up. Gibbs nods his thanks, needing to hear every word out of Mawher's mouth before he acts.

"Interesting," Ridgeway says thoughtfully, and Gibbs makes a mental note to see to it that all his privileges are taken away as soon as he gets Abby home. "I never had that happen. Sorry to say it, but she might be beyond saving. If she's progressed to full catatonia she'd need careful monitoring and drugs to bring her out of it. Not much you could do on your own."

Mawher sounds agitated. "How about if I shot her with, I dunno, adrenaline? Would that help?"

Gibbs' gut screams at him to find Abby, _right now_. He doesn't have a medical background, but common sense tells him that if Mawher carries out this plan, Abby will be in a lot of trouble.

"Have to be a pretty big dose, but if you gave her too much... It could cause brain haemorrhage, convulsions, heart attack... You actually know what you're doing?" Ridgeway's voice is sceptical.

The hesitation before Mawher's answer speaks volumes. "Yeah… a little. I dunno – if I can't get her back on track I'm gonna have to kill her anyway, so it can't hurt, right?"

"Whatever… it's your funeral. Make sure she _is_ unresponsive first. If she's not, try drugging her for a day, see if you can shock her out of the hunger strike."

"Got it," Mawher says, seeming a little calmer. "Thanks, Ed."

"Good luck."

They both hang up, and Gibbs heads for McGee's desk. "Where?"

"Payphone on Sawyer Street, downtown Richmond," McGee says, pulling up the grid on the plasma screen. "Local LEOs are heading out to see if they can pick him up, but if he was driving they won't stand a chance."

"Surveillance feed. Traffic cameras, CCTV, ATMs, I don't care, McGee. Just pick up his trail and follow him." Gibbs feels a cool clarity fall over him – if they lose Mawher now, Abby's as good as dead. Part of him wants to warn her, to tell her to start behaving the way the twisted bastard expects her to. Realistically, he knows that in the time it would take to get home, fall asleep and reach her, Mawher could be trying out his own brand of treatment on her. The only way to help her is to head out to Richmond and wait for McGee's call.

"Ziva, get the sedan." Her own special brand of evasive driving might be just what they need right now. "DiNozzo, you're with us."

Ziva grabs her badge and gun and makes for the elevator. Gibbs takes one step after her, but McGee's voice pulls him up short. "Boss, Abby's in trouble. I can't just sit here-"

After the last two weeks, Gibbs can relate. "Believe me, Tim, I know. But I need you on this if we're gonna bring her home."

McGee nods slowly – he doesn't like it, but he can see the sense. "I'll call you as soon as I have something," he says quietly, and returns to work.

Gibbs heads for the elevator, his mind racing ahead, calculating his next steps. Behind him, McGee says to Tony, "He called me Tim."

"Things must be really bad," Tony mutters in response.

The elevator arrives, and Gibbs steps on, jamming his thumb down on the button to hold the doors. "DiNozzo!" he roars, loud enough to make several nearby desk agents leap out of their skins.

"Right behind you, Boss!" DiNozzo calls, grabbing his gear and sprinting across the squad room.

* * *

Even with Ziva behind the wheel, the drive to Richmond seems interminable. DiNozzo would usually fill the journey by begging her to slow down and keep her eyes on the road, but this time he remains quiet, a fact that Gibbs is grateful for. The atmosphere in the car is tense; for the most part no one speaks.

Gibbs' cell rings as they approach the city. "Tell me you have something," he says into the receiver, not bothering with a hello.

"I have something, Boss." McGee's words fall over themselves, so eager is he to convey what he knows. "Traffic cameras picked Mawher up – he was on foot, and after he got off the phone with Ridgeway he headed a couple blocks down to the local hospital. Probably looking for…"

Gibbs scowls out of the windshield, trying to suppress his fury. "I know why he went there, McGee. Where'd he go after that?"

"About a mile downtown. I'm transmitting the coordinates to you now. He's been in there a while – could be where he's holding Abby."

Ziva brings up the coordinates and adjusts her course sharply, cutting across two lanes and almost causing a collision. Tony at last breaks his silence. "Geez, Ziva!"

"Do you want to get to Abby, or don't you?" she snaps back.

Before Tony can retort, Gibbs levels a warning stare at the pair of them, and they think better of continuing. "Good job, McGee. Keep an eye on the place – if he leaves, I wanna know about it."

"Got it."

Gibbs ends the call, asking Ziva, "How long?"

"Ten minutes," she replies.

"Drive faster."


	9. Needles

**Author's Note: **This one turned out a little darker than I'd originally thought, but hey. I'm almost done now, just have one last chapter to write. Hope everyone's doing okay!

* * *

The building McGee's given them the coordinates for used to be a hardware store. Through the dirty window, the empty shelving units and debris-strewn floor show no trace of Mawher or Abby. Ziva drives past and pulls to a stop a little further down the road, and she and DiNozzo turn to look out of the rear windshield at the place.

"You really think she's in there?" Tony wants to know.

"Mawher could be making a narcotic run," Ziva points out. "Ridgeway mentioned drugging her. And if we storm in and she is _not_ there, he might never tell us where to find her."

It's a risk, Gibbs knows; one that under normal circumstances he'd hesitate to take. But his gut tells him this is the place – the level of traffic noise filtering into the car, the fact that the shop units to the left and right are vacant, the boarded-up window upstairs; all these signs call him to action.

Ziva and Tony are watching him expectantly. "Let's go," he tells them, getting out of the car and striding around the corner to the back of the row of houses without waiting around for them to catch up.

Reluctant to kick in the door and alert Mawher to their presence, he draws a couple of long, slim picks from his pocket and sets to work on the lock. With a click the mechanism gives, and Gibbs heads inside, trying to keep calm and cool. Images of Abby lying on the ground, dead of a massive brain haemorrhage, assault his mind, but he shoves them aside.

There's a passage through to the storeroom at the back of the shop unit, and a set of stairs upward. Though his mind screams at him that Abby's upstairs, he follows standard procedure – they can't help her if they're incapacitated. Mawher could be on the ground floor. Progressing with caution, he moves through the storeroom, weapon drawn, as Tony keeps an eye on the stairwell and Ziva takes the store-front.

"Clear," she whispers to him, appearing in the doorway, and he echos the word, finding nothing. Together they return to DiNozzo, shaking their heads.

Ziva follows Gibbs up the stairs as silently as a cat; behind her, DiNozzo is a little less graceful but barely audible. The door on the landing is closed, and he tries the handle as quietly as he can, relieved beyond measure when the door begins to open.

With a quick glance back at his team, Gibbs pushes the door, and the hinges emit an excruciating squeal. The opportunity for stealth gone, he abandons caution, shouldering past the door and into the living area.

It's as shabby and cramped as the room Abby's being held in. A tiny TV sits atop a scuffed wooden cabinet against one wall, and a frayed, worn couch is placed opposite. The first sound Gibbs becomes aware of is Mawher's voice, muffled by a closed door but raised in anger.

To his right, DiNozzo heads into the kitchen, and Ziva makes for the bathroom on the left. Both return confirming the coast is clear, and Gibbs steels himself to kick in the door to the one remaining room just as Mawher flings it open, a hypodermic needle held aloft.

In the split-second it takes for Gibbs to assess the situation, Mawher takes in the three weapons levelled at him and reacts swiftly. Slamming the door shut again, he takes cover inside Abby's prison, and Gibbs is left with the impression of his panic-stricken face.

Not wasting time on strategy, Gibbs kicks in the door and strides in after him. When he sees Mawher's position his blood turns to ice, and he pulls up short, motioning Ziva and DiNozzo back.

Mawher crouches behind Abby, one hand yanking her head up by the hair, the other holding the hypodermic an inch from Abby's wide, terrified eyes. She doesn't seem to register that Gibbs is there; all her attention is concentrated on the needle.

"Please, Mikel, don't do this, please, please-" Her voice is a barely audible whisper; every molecule of her body screams with silent distress. Gibbs tries to tune it out, to focus on Mawher.

The younger man keeps one eye on Gibbs, the other on Abby and the hypodermic, his words fast and almost unintelligible. "Ab, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I just want us to be together, y'know? But you wouldn't listen and then the cops got involved and I can't let 'em take you away from me! Please tell me you understand, I can't lose you again, I love you so much, I don't wanna hurt you but I gotta do this…"

Gibbs doesn't have a clear shot – if he takes it from this angle the bullet might exit the bastard's body and plough into Abby's flesh. On the other hand, if he stalls for too long Mawher might decide to take Abby to the grave with him.

For one long, eternal, crystal clear instant he watches Mawher's eyes tear up with emotion, the hypodermic wavering a little as the liquid blurs the lunatic's eyesight. And then, taking the biggest risk of his life, Gibbs adjusts his angle with a rapid sidestep left, aims and fires.

The needle drops to the carpet as Mawher falls backward, his eyes losing their intensity as a fine spray of blood and brain tissue paints the wall behind him. Abby cries out, recoiling from the body in horror. Ziva and DiNozzo venture into the room as Gibbs lowers his weapon, and breathe sighs of relief as they realise Abby's unhurt.

Gibbs hardly even registers that they're in the room. "Abby." He crouches beside her, tilting her chin to divert her stunned gaze from Mawher.

She blinks a few times in rapid succession, struggling to process events. Then she bursts into tears, throwing herself into his arms with the last of her strength. He holds her as tightly as he can without crushing her, kissing the top of her head and stroking her hair, trying to impart all the reassurance he has in him.

Next to him, DiNozzo crouches over Mawher, double-checking what Gibbs already knows – that the son of a bitch is dead, a neat bullet-hole in his forehead. Once he's looked the body over, he places a hand over Abby's. "Good to see you, Abbs."

Ziva puts in a quiet phone call to Ducky, her tone troubled as she asks him to bring the morgue van out. As Abby's tears subside, she hangs up and speed-dials McGee, letting him know the situation.

Abby draws back, her eyes seeking out the other two before landing on Gibbs again. And slowly – unbelievably – she manages a shaky smile. It only just reaches her eyes, but it's there. "What day is it?"

_I'm gonna find you, Abbs. Before the weekend._ He remembers his words, uttered impulsively out of desperation, and thanks god they weren't vainglorious. "Friday. Around nineteen hundred hours."

She squeezes his hand. "And you got here with five whole hours to spare. That's my Gibbs."

As she beckons Ziva forward for a hug, which for once is reciprocated without resistance, Tony frowns at Gibbs. "Five hours to what, Boss?"

The first genuine amusement he's felt since Abby's capture wells up within him, and he grins, shaking his head. "The weekend, DiNozzo. The weekend."


	10. Recaffeination

**Author's Note**: This was gonna be the last chapter... but now it's not. XD Still have a little more to write, I think. It's also coming up on Halloween, and I so want to write Halloween Gabby. We'll see!

* * *

Abby spends her first night of freedom in the hospital, at Ducky's insistence. Though she protests that she's fine, that she just wants to go home, her words are weak and her smile faint.

McGee drives her down to the hospital from which Mawher had procured the adrenaline, and Gibbs, Ziva, DiNozzo and Ducky begin processing the scene. The small room where Abby was held is all too familiar to Gibbs, and he turns over the rest of the apartment whilst Ducky gets started on Mawher's body. He wishes like hell he could just blow this off and go be with Abby, but there are procedures to be followed in situations like this, and he knows he can't.

Once Mawher's corpse is loaded into the autopsy van and the entire place has been sketched, shot, bagged and tagged, Ducky and Palmer head back to DC to start the autopsy. The others take the sedan to the hospital, where a nurse firmly informs them that they can see Abby _after_ the preliminary test results are back, and even then not until she wakes up from her exhausted doze.

McGee sheepishly waves at them from the waiting area, and Tony's the first to reach him, yanking the magazine from his lap and brandishing it at Ziva. "See! I _told_ you McGee reads girl magazines!"

Ziva plucks it out of his grasp and begins flicking through it. "The _Cosmopolitan_ Summer Special – good call, McGee," she tells the younger agent, punctuating the comment with an appraisingly seductive smile that Gibbs is sure isn't entirely for DiNozzo's benefit.

Taking the course of action obvious to any agent in this situation, Gibbs goes on a coffee run, not bothering to ask if his team want anything. After working with them for so long, he can pretty much predict their orders – cream and sugar for DiNozzo, hazelnut latte for McGee and a fruit smoothie for Ziva.

And of course, Caf-Pow! for Abby. She hasn't had one in over two weeks, and he knows the first one she drinks will last all of two minutes.

By the time he gets back his agents have settled down a little, their expressions sombre, and he knows before arriving within earshot that they've been discussing Abby's plight. He hands out drinks, ignoring their thanks, and sips his strong, bitter coffee, his gaze fixed on the nurse's station.

After what seems like an eternity, the nurse – whose attitude is as starched as her uniform – approaches them. "Ms Sciuto is awake. Five minutes each, please – we need to keep her rested."

Gibbs doesn't debate with the rest of them who should visit first. He pulls rank without saying a word, getting up and following the nurse down the hall to Abby's room.

She seems pale even against the bleached white of the hospital sheets, and each of her fading bruises show up vividly on her skin. Despite this, her eyes light up when she sees him, and her welcoming smile blossoms into a grin as she registers exactly what he has in his hand. "Is that a Caf-Pow! I see before me?"

Amused, he hands it over, taking a seat on the uncomfortable chair beside the bed. She drains a quarter of the cup in one go before sagging back against the pillows in exaggerated bliss. "Oh my god, caffeine, I swear I'll never leave you again…"

Setting down the cup on the nightstand, she leans over and hugs Gibbs with all her strength, which at the moment isn't much. "So how long is Nurse Evil giving us?" she murmurs.

"About four minutes – then it's Ziva's turn to visit." He already knows it'll be Ziva next. DiNozzo and McGee will be too busy arguing amongst themselves to notice her cut right past them.

"Four minutes?" Her face is buried in his neck, and he can feel her scowl. "It's not like I just came out of a coma…"

His only response is to hold her tighter. In a way, he wishes she _had_ just had medical difficulties – a coma would be less traumatic than what she's been through.

Her irritation drains away, and her lips graze the side of his neck lightly. "Can't believe you're actually here…"

The contact they shared in the fraught weeks of Abby's disappearance was nothing compared to this. He doesn't understand the physics of their strange psychic encounters, but although he could touch her, taste her, the sensations were always a little muted – lacking, somehow.

Her lips against his skin now are electric, her hair under his fingers smooth and silken, her breath deliciously warm and a little shaky.

He kisses her, unable to help himself; her hand tightens on his shoulder with relief as she responds. They start slow, affirming that what happened within their psychic contact is still true in reality, but as the moment stretches on she deepens the kiss, her urgency igniting his until he has to pull away or lose all control.

"Did that seem… _different _to you?" she whispers, looking up at him through her lashes.

"You could say that." More than anything, he wants to pursue the feeling, but a hospital isn't the greatest place for all he has in mind. The same sentiment is etched into Abby's face as she settles back against her pillows.

"So, how many times has Tony managed to say '_Hello_, Nurse!' since he got here?"

The answer comes from the doorway. "Twice. Right before suggesting I would look _cute_ in a nurse's uniform." Ziva doesn't sound happy about it.

"Ziva, hey…" Abby's smile fades as the nurse on duty strides in.

"One visitor at a time, please. Sir, if you'll come with me?" she asks Gibbs.

Before anyone can move or speak, Abby takes a deep breath. The caffeine's kicking in, and she's looking more like her old self every second. "I have a problem with this scenario, Nurse Shelby," she says, reading the woman's name from her nametag.

Nurse Shelby's a middle-aged brunette with a no-nonsense demeanour, and she doesn't seem at all perturbed by the challenge. "In cases like this we like to see the patient get as much bed-rest as possible, Ms Sciuto."

"In cases like this?" Abby echoes, her voice adopting the tone she usually reserves for bitching about the forensic methods of DC's Metro Police Department. "Do you happen to know the particulars of my case, Nurse Shelby? I was locked in a room for two weeks, and the only company I had was…" Her hesitation is only discernible to Gibbs, who's expecting it. "… the psycho who kidnapped me. I had nothing to do except sleep. For a week, I was drugged. And now that I'm out, I don't wanna be alone. I'm_ tired_ of being alone. I want my friends around me. The only reason I'm in here is for observation, and you can observe me just as well with four extra people in the room. So how about being a human being for just one night?"

Nurse Shelby's rendered temporarily speechless, and Gibbs conceals his amusement as he waits for the inevitable. "I suppose I can make an exception in this case," she says slowly. "I'll let your friends know."

Watching her leave, Ziva takes a sip of her smoothie. "I am impressed," she tells Abby.

Seeming a little embarrassed, Abby reaches for the Caf-Pow! with a shrug. "I've had a really bad week. And I'm pizza-deprived. Think we can order in?"

"Someone say 'pizza'?" DiNozzo says, poking his head around the door. McGee follows, and Abby beckons them forward for hugs of welcome.

Though he knows that in a day or two the enormity of everything that's happened will hit her, Gibbs watches the scene with a small smile. Seeing his team pull together, drawing Abby back into their midst, he at last feels that things are getting back to normal. Only Ducky's absence casts a shadow over the evening, reminding him of the body in autopsy and the events connected to it.


	11. Home

**Author's Note**: Just one more chapter left after this! This isn't brilliant, and I might be drawing the ending out too much, but after two weeks in captivity I didn't want to just make Abby instantly fine and happy again. Thanks to everyone who's still with this one – it means a lot!

* * *

Abby's family arrive a couple of hours later, and her friends leave them to their tearful reunion. Gloria stops Gibbs on his way out the door, enveloping him in a fierce, tearful hug and signing to him that she's sorry for how harshly she treated him when he told her of her daughter's disappearance.

He drives his team back to the Navy Yard, where Tony, Ziva and McGee all collect their respective vehicles and head home in high spirits. Though it's getting on for one a.m., Gibbs opts to stay in the building a little longer, compiling his statement on events and his role in Mawher's death. He leaves it in Jenny's office and then takes the rear elevator down to the morgue, where Ducky and Palmer are concluding the autopsy.

"Hey, Duck."

"Ah, Jethro. How is young Abby?" Ducky asks, stripping off his bloodied latex gloves. Palmer looks up from suturing shut the Y-incision, eager for news.

"She's good. They're keeping her in for observation; her family are with her." Gibbs stares down at Mawher. His pallid face is washed clean of the eyeliner he was never seen without in life, and with his features free of the nervous energy he always seemed to display, he appears almost serene. "How was the autopsy?"

"As expected. No abnormal findings – not that I expected anything would contradict your story, of course." He fixes Gibbs with a concerned gaze. "I really think you should go home and get some rest, Jethro. These past two weeks have been hard on all of us, but you seem to have had a more difficult time than most."

He's grown used to functioning on the last dregs of his energy, but Gibbs has to admit that on this occasion, Ducky's right. Acknowledging his old friend's hand on his shoulder with a brief nod, he turns and leaves the morgue.

* * *

Gibbs drives home slowly, fighting weariness. Once he gets there, he falls asleep almost instantly, his mind reaching for his psychic connection to Abby out of habit. Nothing happens, and his sleep is dreamless and uninterrupted.

He's woken at midday by the phone ringing, and when he answers, Abby's voice pulls him into full awareness. "How'd you sleep?"

Gibbs glances at the clock. "A little too well. You?"

"Good." Something in the timbre of her voice tells him that's not strictly true, but he doesn't push her for now. "I think we lost our psychic superpowers, Gibbs. I tried to reach you last night, but I didn't get anywhere."

"Me either." Truth be told, it doesn't bother him too much, but he knows she'll be disappointed. Ever the scientist, she had probably been planning to run tests to see if she could figure out the hows and whys of their mind-link. All Gibbs can imagine is that it had something to do with the mutual stress they were under, but he doesn't want to think about it now that he doesn't have to. Psychic abilities undermine his view of the world a little too much for comfort.

"There goes my scientific breakthrough," she says, a little dejectedly. "I was gonna see if Ducky could get me some time with an EEG, maybe do some brain scans…"

There's a voice in the background, and Gibbs recognises it as belonging to Josh, Abby's younger brother. She listens to him for a moment, and then says, "I called to see if you could pick me up from my mom's later tonight. And if the answer's yes, she's insisting that you stay for dinner."

He's had dinner with the Sciuto family a couple of times before, had spent the previous Christmas with them at Abby's behest. She introduced him to her parents years ago, after learning that he knew how to sign, and he gets on well with them both. "Sure."

The day passes quickly, and before he knows it Abby's greeting him at the door of her parents' place with a hug that almost knocks him to the ground. "I missed you!"

Mealtimes with Abby's family are all but silent, but no less boisterous for it. Gloria and Daniel communicate in sign language, but are able to lip-read. Abby once told him that they get along okay in the hearing community, but Gibbs chooses to sign rather than speak to them, explaining that he enjoys the chance to practice.

Abby and her brother, of course, are fluent in ASL, and the entire Sciuto family love to talk as much as Abby does. At times it's a challenge interpreting the rapid hand movements from four other people, but Gibbs catches ninety-five per cent of what's said.

Even with his brain working overtime, certain things are not lost on him. Abby still seems fatigued, her smile a little slow to appear. She strives not to show it, bickering affectionately with Josh and keeping up her usual cheerful exterior, but Gibbs knows she'll need time before she truly feels herself again.

* * *

It's around eleven at night when Abby promises to get in touch with her parents the following day, and slides into the passenger seat of Gibbs' car. They're understandably reluctant to see her leave, but Abby tells them she wants to get back to some semblance of normality as soon as possible, and they accept her wishes without a fight.

As Gibbs turns onto the high street, Abby rests her head on his shoulder. "Thanks, Gibbs."

He kisses the top of her head, keeping his eyes on the road. "You should sleep."

"Later." She begins to play around with the radio, hopping from a weather report through several songs that she discounts with a sigh.

Gibbs reaches over and pulls a CD out of the glove box, handing it to her. She studies it and grins, recognising it as the Plastic Death disc she directed him to at her apartment, during their first mind-link. "You're a closet fan, aren't you?"

He kept the CD close throughout his search for her, turning it over and over in his hands as he tried in vain to figure out a way to locate her. Over the days since he found it, it became a talisman, a symbol of his failure, a memento to remind him not to give up. Now he's glad to return it to her.

Abby slots it into the CD player he never uses. "I didn't have any of my music at my parents' place. I haven't heard anything I actually like since…" She doesn't bother to finish the sentence, instead hitting the play button and adjusting the volume to a level a little below ear-splitting.

As the first track starts, indistinguishable to Gibbs' ears from any of the other stuff she plays, she leans back in her seat, her eyes closed, just listening. One hand taps out a rhythm in time to the beat against her thigh, but she's otherwise motionless.

Gibbs drives without speaking, letting her soak up the sounds she's missed so much. By the time the last track concludes, he's making the turning onto Abby's street, and she opens her eyes to gaze up at the building he knows she was afraid she'd never see again.

"You're home," he tells her, and she gives that slow smile again, the light in her eyes a little brighter than it had been just an hour before. And then she speaks the words that give him hope that she's beginning to pull herself back from the darkness.

"If Tony's been through my underwear drawer, I _will _kill him."


	12. Welcome Back

**Author's Note**: Okay, final chapter! I can't believe I've finished this already… Thanks for sticking around all this time, and I hope this doesn't disappoint. Huge thanks to everyone who's taken the time to let me know what they think – I appreciate it!

* * *

Abby closes her apartment door and looks around as if she's never been here before. Gibbs watches her take a deep breath, and puts a hand on her shoulder. "If you'd rather sleep at my place tonight…"

Quickly, she shakes her head. "No. I'm okay."

She walks over to the table that was overbalanced when Gibbs and Tony arrived at her apartment, straightens the lampshade and moves the telephone to one side. Then, nodding, she manages a smile. "Want some coffee?"

As she moves around the kitchen, finding everything where she left it, she's comforted by the familiarity of her apartment, despite what happened the last time she was here. As she curls up on the couch next to Gibbs, she asks, "Will you stay here tonight?"

"You thought I was gonna leave you here alone?" he asks, and she leans against him, comforted.

"Ziva knows about the psychic stuff, doesn't she?"

Gibbs hadn't expected her to catch onto that fact so soon after her rescue. "Yeah. How'd you guess?"

She shrugs. "She keeps giving me these weird looks, and I know how freaked out she gets about that kinda thing."

"She'll get over it."

Abby tilts her head up to look at him. "Will _you_?" Off his look, she giggles. "Okay, okay. It never happened."

He kisses her slowly, and she smiles against his lips, wrapping her arms around him. He pulls back to look at her, and she raises a suggestive eyebrow at him. "Wanna-?"

He kisses her again, cutting her off before she can finish. "No," he tells her quietly, although her resulting pout is so alluring that it's almost enough to make him reconsider. "You need to rest, Abby."

"You know, too much chivalry can be bad for you," she says dryly, and puts her head on his shoulder.

He smiles, his arms tightening around her. She's quiet for a few minutes, and it's not until her coffee mug begins to tilt dangerously that he realises she's fallen asleep. He takes it from her with care and carries her through to her bedroom, pulling the covers up over her and then heading back through to the living room.

He's not sleepy in the slightest, and he sinks into his own thoughts, replaying the showdown with Mawher in his head. There are so many things that might have gone catastrophically wrong. It seems like a miracle to him that Abby made it through unharmed.

Before an hour has passed, he hears the sound he's been half-waiting for since she fell asleep: a muffled, disoriented cry of terror. He makes for the bedroom, to find Abby sitting up in bed, her arms around her knees, staring at him fearfully.

He sits on the edge of the bed, and she throws her arms around him, clinging on tightly. Gibbs strokes her hair, trying to calm her. "Bad dream?"

She doesn't reply, but from the way she's holding her breath he knows the words have brought her to tears. "Let it go, Abbs," he murmurs, and she releases the breath, her body shaking with the force of her sobs.

She cries until she can't cry any more, dragging herself through the painful process of beginning to accept what's happened to her. When her breathing calms, she whispers, "He nearly killed me."

"But he didn't." He sits back to meet her eyes, making sure she knows she's safe.

"I dreamed I was back there, in that room. When I woke up I thought..." She can't finish, shaking her head.

"I know." Gibbs kisses her forehead gently, and she squeezes his hand in appreciation.

"Will you sleep in here with me? I mean, not _sleep_, just sleep?"

He nods, and she tries a smile, gesturing down at the skirt and shirt she fell asleep in on the couch. "I'm gonna change."

She vanishes into the bathroom, emerging a few minutes later wearing black pyjama pants and a camisole top, her hair loose around her shoulders and her face cleansed of makeup. She's tired and her eyes are a little red from crying, but to Gibbs she looks just as good as ever.

She lies down beside him, and he draws the covers up over them both. Abby burrows into his arms, his chest against her back. Their bodies fit perfectly together, and Gibbs listens to her breathing gradually slow as she relaxes.

After a while she seems to have fallen asleep, but as Gibbs lets himself begin to drift her quiet whisper splits the silence. "Gibbs?"

"Yeah."

"I didn't thank you for saving my life."

Amused, he opens one eye. "Sleep now, thank me later."

A tinge of laughter in her voice, she shifts against him playfully. "Oh, I will."

He's tempted beyond belief, but she's too emotionally fraught right now for him to even consider initiating anything. "Later, Abbs…"

She twists in his arms, kissing him briefly, sweetly, and then settling down again. "Night, Gibbs."

* * *

He wakes the next morning to the sensation of Abby kissing her way along his jawline. The next couple of hours are more intense than Gibbs would have thought possible. Abby treats sex the same way as she leads the rest of her life: with joy, enthusiasm, energy and emotion. Gibbs can't get enough of her.

When neither of them can summon the strength to move, Abby entwines her legs with his, her head on his chest. Their conversation meanders from topic to topic, until Abby asks him, "So tell me the truth. How bad is my lab? I mean, now we don't have a homicidal maniac to worry about?"

He anticipates her train of thought and shakes his head. "You're not going into work tomorrow."

She raises herself up on one elbow to frown at him. "Yes, I am! I don't need to convalesce like an old woman – I need to get my life back. Anyway, I have a psych assessment with Ducky in the afternoon. He'll recommend therapy, and trust me, I'll go. But I miss my lab, Gibbs. You know how much I love my job."

Gibbs listens without interrupting, knowing on some level that she's right. If their positions were reversed, he'd want to do the exact same thing – and he has done in the past, against all advice. It's only because of his own experience that he acquiesces.

"You'll go to the therapy sessions?"

She raises an eyebrow. "Thought you didn't believe in therapy?"

"Had enough of it to know it doesn't work for me. But that's me." He knows that the more she represses the experience, the more spectacularly it'll blow up in her face later. Abby feels things so deeply that even the thought makes him wince.

She drops her head back onto his chest. "You're just a difficult patient." He doesn't reply, waiting for her answer. Finally, she says, "I promise I'll go to therapy if you let me go back to work tomorrow."

Reluctantly, he nods. "Deal."

She hums with satisfaction at her victory, and silence descends on the room for a couple of minutes. Though their psychic link seems to be broken, Gibbs can almost hear her thought processes. When she speaks again, the words are exactly what he expects, and he can't help but laugh.

"So how bad _is_ my lab?"

* * *

When they arrive at the Navy Yard the following morning, Abby fidgets with excitement as the elevator ascends to the third floor. Only she could be so happy about coming into work, and Gibbs watches her without comment, glad that she seems to be feeling better by the day.

The doors open, and Abby steps out of the elevator first, looking around the squad-room with a nostalgic smile, as if she hasn't been here for years. A couple of the agents at nearby desks glance up and notice her, and immediately jump to their feet to greet her. As she's enveloped in hugs of welcome, word spreads around the large office, and the entire place erupts into spontaneous applause.

Over to their right, Ziva, Tony and McGee are on their feet. Gibbs' gaze moves past them, up toward MTAC; Jenny and her assistant, Cynthia, are standing on the balcony, looking down, applauding with the rest. Gibbs' eyes meet Jenny's, and she gives him an almost imperceptible nod, which he returns.

Abby's surrounded by people, and Gibbs leaves her to her reunions, heading over to his desk. "Good weekend, Boss?" DiNozzo asks, and Gibbs entertains himself by imagining his team's expressions if he told them exactly how he spent much of the day before.

"Not bad, DiNozzo. You?"

"Director Shepard!" Abby's yell commands their attention, and they turn to watch Abby almost suffocate the startled head of the agency with a hug. "I missed you!"

"Only Abby could get away with that," Tony says, grinning.

It takes ten minutes for Abby to greet everyone. Once she's done, she makes a beeline for Tony's desk, hugging him, then McGee, and then Ziva in rapid succession. "Wow, I missed this place so much! What're you working on?"

They all see past the question to what she's really asking: _do you have forensic goodies for me?_

They still haven't wrapped up the case Jenny gave them when Abby's trail went cold, and McGee gives her a brief run-down, adding, "There's evidence down in your lab. The temp made a start, but he's not as fast as you are."

Abby casts a sidelong glance at Gibbs. "Remember those words next time you're hounding me for results…"

Gibbs takes a sip of his coffee, letting the comment pass. She sees past his impassive façade to the amusement within, and her eyes sparkle as she looks away again.

"Okay, I'm gonna go see my babies." She starts toward the rear elevator, and by unspoken agreement, McGee, DiNozzo and Ziva converge to follow her. Knowing exactly what she'll find when she reaches her lab, Gibbs does the same, and they ride the elevator down together, Tony filling Abby in on some of the office gossip she's missed.

They head into the lab, and Abby stops dead, staring around her. Gibbs follows her line of sight, taking in the thirty or so bouquets of black roses scattered around the room. An entire shelf of her refrigeration unit has been filled with Caf-Pow!, and a banner stretches across the top of the glass doors that lead into her office, proclaiming in large letters, _Welcome Home, Abby!_

"Awwww!" Abby launches herself at everyone in the room again, then spins around the lab, examining everything. "This rocks! Thank you so much!"

"I think there's something from pretty much everyone who works with you," Tony says.

One of the many machines scattered around the room beeps, and Abby whirls to face it. "Ooh, DNA…" She shifts the mouse of one of her computers, and the screen lights up with a service record. "I have no idea if you know who this guy is, but according to this, his hair was found at your crime scene."

Gibbs doesn't recognise the name or the face of the unsmiling Gunnery Sergeant staring out from the screen, but Ziva apparently does. He dispatches his team to pick him up, leaving him alone with Abby.

She shrugs into her lab coat, donning the garment like a fragment of her identity, and looks over at him, smiling a little. "I'm home."

For the first time since her rescue, she looks as though she really believes it. Gibbs kisses the top of her head, relieved that she's not showing any signs of strain at being back at work. "Call me if you need me," he tells her.

"Oh, I will," she says mischievously, as he makes for the elevator. As he steps into the enclosed space, a wave of the noise she calls music surges through the air at an ear-splitting level, and the lab is her own again.

Gibbs drains his coffee cup as the doors close, finally letting himself relax. It might take a little time, but Abby will be just fine.

END.


End file.
